Page 9 of Feral Werewolves
I couldn’t help but smile. “No,” I said, shaking my head, but grinning now. “No, that is none of my business.”
“Itisn’tyour business,” he sang, “but youstillwant to know.”
“I’ll just wait and see,” I said, bold, turning to look at him.
He laughed, slinging his arm around me. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said throatily into my ear, “if you think you’ll be able to concentrate on anything except the twelve dicks that are trying to get inside you or get rubbed against you or pelt you with wolf come, you’re in for a big surprise.”
I winced.
He let go of me. “Sorry.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s good to know.” I nodded. “I’d rather know.” I bounced on the balls of my feet.
It was quiet. How long did we wait here? No one else was showing up. We were all just here in the line, staring at the wall. It wasn’t completely dark yet, but it was close. The moon was visible in the sky.
I gazed up at it, and then looked down the line of tithes, and then at the wall, and finally back to the moon.
I turned back to Noah. “So, it’s like that? There’s a lot of them?”
“There’s some kind of hierarchy going on,” he said. “So, there’s a group of wolves who gets to fuck first, and they distribute themselves evenly over how many of us there are. They run themselves ragged, and then the others get a turn. It takes all night. There’s someone who can still get it up all the way until dawn. Okay, probably five or six someones, to be honest, and they’re all, you know, getting it up and finding ways to poke you with it.”
I swallowed. “But it’s not bad, you said. It doesn’t feel bad.”
“No, it feels very fucking good.”
I nodded.
It was quiet again.
“They don’t chase you?” I read that a lot, in some of the stories online, but I wasn’t sure if that was real or some kind of fantasy that erotica writers were making up. Prey-kink or something.It turns me on to think that this huge beast-thing is going to tackle me and rip me to shreds and eat me.Not to yuck anyone’s yum or whatever. I mean, here I was, right?
Noah furrowed his brow. “Well…” He nodded at the women in handcuffs. “It’s not that tithes don’t try to run sometimes.”
I nodded.
“It’s stupid. They will catch you.”
I nodded again.
More silence.
“I don’t, you know, not yet,” said Noah. “I mean, maybe not ever. I keep going back and forth about it, but I started the process, anyway, with my therapists and stuff, to get what I need for the bottom surgery, in case I decide I want one.”
A penis, he meant. I blinked at him. “You could not want one?”
“I mean… even if I do it, it won’t be like a real man’s.” He rolled his eyes. “Acisman’s. And I, you know, it’s handy, the extra hole, sometimes, with, uh…” He shook his head. “Why am I talking to you again?”
“Let’s be friends, Noah,” I said. “You want to?”
He gave me a little smile. “You’re going to be okay, you know. What’s your name?”
“Clementine,” I said.
He laughed. “Of course it is.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I said.
He nudged me with his shoulder again. “I guess I thought, before I transitioned, that, like, men didn’t feel like this.”
